wouldn’t be able to dance with any other man the rest of the night. All things considered, that might be all right this evening. She hadn’t come to husband hunt; she’d come to keep an eye on Ginny. Rhiannon looked to Radbourne for advice, but the Lycan merely winked at her.
“Please don’t say no,” Blodswell said quietly, “or everyone will assume my earlier breach of decorum was scandalous enough for you to give me the cut direct.”
Breach of decorum. Is that how vampyres referred to turning delightful men into one of their kind? She’d like to give him the cut direct, among other things, but making another scene would hardly help Ginny. So Rhiannon smiled at the vampyre.
“Would ye mind if we took a turn about the room instead? I doona feel much like dancin’ this evenin’.” She glanced up at the ceiling, where a small storm cloud brewed. “Why canna I seem ta control myself around him?” she muttered to herself.
Unfortunately, both Blodswell and Radbourne heard her words. The latter looked the former over with more than a hint of disapproval. “Best of luck to you, Blodswell,” the viscount offered before he turned on his heel to rejoin his brothers across the room.
Of course, Radbourne had no knowledge of her storms; at least she didn’t think he did. So, the Lycan viscount must have thought she meant something entirely different than the storm cloud over their heads that threatened to erupt at any moment.
“
Havers!
” Rhiannon said as she fanned her face. “That wasna what I meant at all. Now the man will think I have feelings for ye.”
The Earl of Blodswell took her hand and placed it on his arm, and then graced her with his most winning smile. “Well, you do, don’t you?”
Rhiannon nearly tripped on her hem as his dark gaze momentarily disarmed her. The blasted vampyre shouldn’t go around smiling at women like that. The female half of London would throw themselves in his path to catch a glimpse of that smile. It was foolish of her to forget the enchanting power of vampyres. She quickly shook her head to clear her mind. She should never have looked into his eyes. She didn’t think he’d enchanted her, but one could never be too cautious when dealing with his kind.
“I suppose irritation and dislike
are
feelings, my lord.”
Blast him. He smiled again. Rhi refused to look at him. Smiles and enchanted gazes might work on some women, but not her. She knew what he was about, after all. She glanced across the crowded ballroom and spotted Ginny at the far end with Aunt Greer who was glaring daggers at her. For a moment Rhi wasn’t certain whose gaze was worse, Blodswell’s or Aunt Greer’s. But only for a moment. Aunt Greer, nasty as she was, didn’t have the power to drain someone of their own free will.
“And why do you dislike me so, Miss Sinclair?” The earl’s gentle, baritone voice brushed across her ear like a caress as they strolled the perimeter.
She kept her face focused on the couples dancing a few feet away, afraid to give him any opportunity to look in her eyes. “Do ye truly have ta ask that question? After what ye did ta Alec…”
“MacQuarrie aside, you didn’t know my connection to your friend last night when you fabricated a husband and bolted through Hyde Park as though the watch was after you.”
No, she hadn’t. She’d been terribly embarrassed to have been caught having a temper tantrum, and
then
she’d realized what he was. “The watch would have been preferable,” she grumbled.
Blodswell stopped walking and towed her closer to him. Rhiannon looked above his head to avoid eye contact, but she could tell he was frowning. “No one has ever taken an instant dislike toward me, Miss Sinclair. Not in hundreds of years. Pray tell me what I’ve done that offended you so terribly last night.”
Rhiannon let her gaze settle on the dimple in his chin. “Ye’re a vampyre,” she said beneath her breath. Heaven help her if anyone other than
“Please don’t say no,” Blodswell said quietly, “or everyone will assume my earlier breach of decorum was scandalous enough for you to give me the cut direct.”
Breach of decorum. Is that how vampyres referred to turning delightful men into one of their kind? She’d like to give him the cut direct, among other things, but making another scene would hardly help Ginny. So Rhiannon smiled at the vampyre.
“Would ye mind if we took a turn about the room instead? I doona feel much like dancin’ this evenin’.” She glanced up at the ceiling, where a small storm cloud brewed. “Why canna I seem ta control myself around him?” she muttered to herself.
Unfortunately, both Blodswell and Radbourne heard her words. The latter looked the former over with more than a hint of disapproval. “Best of luck to you, Blodswell,” the viscount offered before he turned on his heel to rejoin his brothers across the room.
Of course, Radbourne had no knowledge of her storms; at least she didn’t think he did. So, the Lycan viscount must have thought she meant something entirely different than the storm cloud over their heads that threatened to erupt at any moment.
“
Havers!
” Rhiannon said as she fanned her face. “That wasna what I meant at all. Now the man will think I have feelings for ye.”
The Earl of Blodswell took her hand and placed it on his arm, and then graced her with his most winning smile. “Well, you do, don’t you?”
Rhiannon nearly tripped on her hem as his dark gaze momentarily disarmed her. The blasted vampyre shouldn’t go around smiling at women like that. The female half of London would throw themselves in his path to catch a glimpse of that smile. It was foolish of her to forget the enchanting power of vampyres. She quickly shook her head to clear her mind. She should never have looked into his eyes. She didn’t think he’d enchanted her, but one could never be too cautious when dealing with his kind.
“I suppose irritation and dislike
are
feelings, my lord.”
Blast him. He smiled again. Rhi refused to look at him. Smiles and enchanted gazes might work on some women, but not her. She knew what he was about, after all. She glanced across the crowded ballroom and spotted Ginny at the far end with Aunt Greer who was glaring daggers at her. For a moment Rhi wasn’t certain whose gaze was worse, Blodswell’s or Aunt Greer’s. But only for a moment. Aunt Greer, nasty as she was, didn’t have the power to drain someone of their own free will.
“And why do you dislike me so, Miss Sinclair?” The earl’s gentle, baritone voice brushed across her ear like a caress as they strolled the perimeter.
She kept her face focused on the couples dancing a few feet away, afraid to give him any opportunity to look in her eyes. “Do ye truly have ta ask that question? After what ye did ta Alec…”
“MacQuarrie aside, you didn’t know my connection to your friend last night when you fabricated a husband and bolted through Hyde Park as though the watch was after you.”
No, she hadn’t. She’d been terribly embarrassed to have been caught having a temper tantrum, and
then
she’d realized what he was. “The watch would have been preferable,” she grumbled.
Blodswell stopped walking and towed her closer to him. Rhiannon looked above his head to avoid eye contact, but she could tell he was frowning. “No one has ever taken an instant dislike toward me, Miss Sinclair. Not in hundreds of years. Pray tell me what I’ve done that offended you so terribly last night.”
Rhiannon let her gaze settle on the dimple in his chin. “Ye’re a vampyre,” she said beneath her breath. Heaven help her if anyone other than
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